


Unspeakable

by fairychangeling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Class Differences, Edwardian Period, Explicit Sexual Content, Gardener Dean, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secret Relationship, Sexual Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairychangeling/pseuds/fairychangeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the first moment Michael sees him, he is captivated by Adam. </p><p>He does not allow himself to believe that anything could happen between them; but then one night Adam appears at his window, wet and shivering, and determined to cross the boundaries keeping them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspeakable

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to my wonderful artist elixirdane who took my words and made beautiful, updated and modern art to go along with it. I love that this little historical story inspired such pretty things! 
> 
> Also huge thanks to my amazing beta, Onceuponatmi, who once again made me take a good hard look at my writing, told me what was needed, and helped me shape something better than what I started with. It is such a gift to have your help. 
> 
> This story takes a lot of it's inspiration from one of my favorite novels 'Maurice' E.M. Forster, which also happens to be one of the first LGBT novels published in England. If you get the chance to watch the Merchant Ivory adaptation, then I suggest giving it a try, or obtain a copy and read the story because it is beautifully written and (which still seems so rare) there is a happy ending for the hero and his lover!
> 
> The title is taken from the book, as one of the characters describes being gay - “I am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort.”

They’re just home from church the first time Michael catches sight of him.

 

Michael’s whole family is with him; Castiel piously quiet, Gabriel openly ruminating on the sermon and his dislike of the pastor, Anna singing snatches of the hymns as she skips along. It is Sunday and Michael is ushering them home to a dinner of cold meats, bread and cheese. The cook has the day off. All the servants do. Michael wishes for them to go to church, to use God’s day as he does, to study the bible and give thanks for what they have. Not all of his servants do so, but they all respect his wishes that no work is done on the Sabbath. 

 

That is why the youth kneeling beside the flower bed catches Michael’s eye. He is weeding industriously, fingers and nails caught with dirt, and Michael stares at him. 

 

It’s a cold day, the sunlight weak, but it catches in the boy’s golden hair, illuminates him as if he wears a halo. However, no angel would walk the earth on a Sunday, and no angel would be down on his knees weeding Michael’s flowerbeds, so Michael turns his head away, ushering his family towards the warmth of the house. 

 

He does not look back at the boy, no matter how much he wants to. 

 

 

 

**

 

The second time, Michael learns the boy’s name. 

 

His gamekeeper, Dean, comes to him, twisting his cap in his hands, with the boy tagging along at his heels. 

 

Michael has always admired Dean. Fascinated by how he works, his bond with the natural world; which seems so removed from Michael’s everyday life. 

 

“This is Adam,” Dean says, nodding towards the boy. “He’s my brother. His mother sent him from the city for me to take care of. I’ve given him a trial, and he’s good at the work, so I thought maybe he could be my apprentice”

 

Dean asking Michael to take on another servant, one who apparently doesn’t come with references (Michael is certain Dean would have presented them) is a risk and he can understand Dean’s nerves.  Accepting means another demand on Michael’s purse and taking a chance to take on a boy who has either never worked before in his life or who has been such a poor employee that his previous masters refuse to provide him with a recommendation. 

 

Common sense dictates Michael should turn down Dean’s request. There are factories and shops in the city, more than enough possible jobs for a young man who wants to work, but Adam has been sent here. Already Michael feels there is something secretive about Adam’s arrival, something Dean does not want to tell him. Adam could be a thief, a trouble-maker, or simply bone idle and Michael can hardly expect to get an unbiased picture of the boy from Dean. 

 

Refusing Adam a placement is the sensible choice. 

 

Michael looks at Adam and feels his common sense melt away. “I am sure there will be plenty for him to do,” he says.

 

Adam smiles at him and Michael cannot make himself regret his decision. 

 

**

 

_ Adam.  _ The name melts on his tongue. The name of the first man.  

 

Michael traces the name with his lips, repeats it to himself in quiet moments when he’s alone. 

 

Part of him, the part which wants to continue to throw caution to the wind, suggests he give Adam a position inside the house so he can say Adam’s name publically as well as privately, but Michael is not that ready to abandon all of his reservations. He still knows nothing about the young man. Letting him inside is not a risk Michael is willing to take. 

 

Adam works in the garden, planting the new flowers, weeding and tending the grounds. Michael watches him from from inside the house. He watches and he yearns to be closer to the honest work he sees; to the young man who looks so good on his knees among the flowers. 

 

Michael will never know such a worthy life.  His hands are sullied, not by earth, but by sins which can only be seen by God. His family lives happy and contented, but Michael cannot shake the feeling that what they have is neither earned nor deserved. Their fortune was built on the backs of the poor and downtrodden; heedless of those who suffered while his family’s name grew in glory. 

 

He does not know how to stop his greed. He has money, an estate, and yet he is insatiable. He yearns for Adam. It would be easy to make Adam another sin no one but God can see. 

 

Michael does not know how to attone. He keeps Adam out of arm's reach. He goes to church and prays for guidance; listens to his pastor who tells him God has blessed the family with this pleasant and comfortable life. But none of this makes him feel better.

 

Michael raises the servants wages and tries to soothe the guilt in his soul. 

 

 

**

 

The last blooms of the summer are glorious. There are pinks, reds and oranges. Fabulous bright colours, imported from far flung reaches of the Empire, and brought along with skill by Dean and his apprentice. Michael has never taken much interest in the garden before, but now he finds an afternoon stroll enriches his day.

 

As well as the beautiful blossoms, there is always the possibility that he will meet Adam during his walk. 

 

They have passed the time of day together on several occasions. It is always simple, polite pleasantries that they exchange, but Michael is happier for the conversation. He tries his hardest to take an interest in Adam’s work, though he knows only the vaguest things about it, and Adam rewards him with smiles that make Michael’s heart soar. 

 

On this outing, he is greeted by the sight of Adam pruning. From their last few conversations Michael has gathered that Dean and Adam are beginning the process of cuttinging back the trees and shrubs for the winter months. It seems impossible to think of the changing season when everything around them is so lush and full of life, but Autumn will come soon. 

 

“Good afternoon, sir,” Adam greets him immediately setting aside his shears. 

 

“Good afternoon,” Michael says, stopping by Adam. He could almost believe that the boy had been waiting for him, hoping to see him, but that seems too far fetched.

 

“I had to cut some flowers this morning,” Adam says. “They were coming to the end of their bloom, but they’re still beautiful and I thought…” he hesitates for a moment, uncertain of himself and then stoops. There is a basket of cuttings at his side and from it he produces a small bouquet of dazzling red flowers. “I thought you might like them.”

 

Michael was not expecting this. No one has ever given him flowers before. Flowers are a gift for wooing a beloved, not something offered to another man. 

 

“I noticed you’ve often admired these ones.” Adam says. 

 

They are Michael’s favorites, exotic and expensive, something he imported on a whim. He had never seen them in bloom before this summer, before Adam, but now they are inexorably linked to the boy in the garden. Michael would never have lingered outside, would never have found a favorite flower, if not for Adam.

 

“Thank you,” he says, taking the bouquet from Adam’s hands.

 

Their fingers brush, their eyes lock. Adam’s cheeks are pink, but Michael cannot tell if it’s because of the touch between them or because of the work Adam has been doing. He wants it to be a blush.

 

“These are very beautiful. I’ll put them in my office. They’ll be a great joy to me when I’m working,” he says. 

 

Adam smiles, so beautiful and beguiling, and that expression is what Michael remembers every time he looks at the flowers. 

 

 

**

 

The garden grows dormant as they creep towards winter. The trees are bare, having dropped their leaves in the last glorious days of autumn and the flowers have withered away, back into the ground that gave them to the world. 

 

There is less work for Dean and his apprentice. Michael glances through every window he passes as he walks the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Adam, but they are few and fleeting. 

 

It shouldn’t matter, but it does. Michael feels as if the world dims without seeing Adam in it. 

 

**

 

“It was a scandal.”

 

The words catch Michael’s attention, even though he does not usually listen to gossip. He would chastise his servants if he caught them listening at doors, but now here he is; the promise of a scandal enticing him to stop and listen. 

 

“He seems such a nice boy.”

 

“His mother couldn’t deal with him any longer. She sent him to Dean to keep him out of harm; she knew that Dean wouldn’t let him get away with any nonsense here.”

 

Michael’s mouth feels dry. They are talking about Adam.

 

From the tone of the conversation it seems that his original fears regarding Adam were sound, and Michael wishes that he had kept walking and not lingered to listen. Truly, no one ever heard something pleasing when they listened at doors.

 

“And what sort of harm was he likely to get into in London? Not thieving was he?” 

 

“No, but still the sort of thing he’d be sent down for if they caught him at it.”

 

“What?” 

 

“It’s hardly polite to say. London is filled with vice and corruption, but maybe now he’s up here he’ll find himself a nice wife and forget all of that.”

 

Michael swallows. He forces himself to walk away before he can overhear anything else. He does not think about where he is going and when he ends up in his study he is taken aback. His feet traced the familiar path, but Michael’s mind was miles away. 

 

He sits down at his desk and fails to stop thinking of Adam. He knows what those carefully chosen words were designed to imply.

 

Adam was sent to the care of his brother because of his interest in men. Denied London to keep him away from those who could tempt and exploit him. To keep him away from the danger of discovery and all that could come with it. He was sent here, to Michael’s home, to prevent his going astray, and from the moment he arrived he has become a temptation. 

 

Michael could almost laugh at the cruelty of fate for playing such a wicked trick on the both of them. 

  
  
  


**

 

The rainfall is light, hardly more than a short shower. Yet, it is still too wet for Castiel to be outside. He is delicate and Michael is fretful about his brother’s health, nervous that a cold or cough could develop into something worse. Castiel is an adult, able to make his own decisions about life, but Michael finds it difficult to stop seeing him as the sickly child he once was. 

 

Michael keeps all his siblings close, he is the head of the family; their father is long dead, their mother a distant memory. All they have left is each other; and it is his duty as eldest to protect them. 

 

Castiel has always been fascinated by the garden. In the summer when the weather is warm, Michael has often found Castiel sitting there, book in hand, enjoying it. Even in the winter, when it is really too cold, Castiel will still stomp outside in boots and gloves to go and walk the grounds. 

 

He is the most natural of Michael’s siblings, the most innocent. He is not tainted by the grubby world of shady business dealings and unclean thoughts as Michael is.

 

Michael walks through the garden, the rain drops catching in his hair, looking this way and that for Castiel. He knows it was not raining when Castiel chose to venture into the garden, but once the skies opened, Castiel should have come back to the house. Michael can only hope that Castiel has found shelter somewhere as he does not have a strong constitution

 

Michael’s path takes him towards the greenhouse. It is the the first place that Castiel might have gone. After that, there is the little cottage that Dean shares with Adam. It’s small, but Michael has paid for the up-keep and Castiel would be safe and dry there until the rain storm passed. 

 

He does not need to go as far as the cottage to find Castiel however.

 

At first Michael is not sure what it is he sees through the panes of the greenhouse. His mind refuses to register the sight. For a long time he stands in the rain, water dripping down the bridge of his nose, watching the two men inside the greenhouse; uncomprehending.

  
  


The way they move together, the sureness of their caresses, tells Michael that this is not the first time Dean and Castiel have met like this.The kind of intimacy presented in front of him is something Michael has long craved. He has sought it out in discreet venues in London where such desires are tolerated, but those experiences were base shadows of this. He has never before witnessed his dreams of true intimacy in the embrace of two other men.

 

Dean is holding Castiel tenderly, embracing him as if Castiel is the most precious thing in the world to him, and kissing him.Castiel’s body is molded against Dean’s, soft, where Dean is firm from his life of hard work. Dean’s hands must be calloused, rough with use, but Castiel does not seem to mind that. He does not appear to mind the stubble on Dean’s face, or the dirt on his fingers and clothes, either. His kisses and touches show nothing but joy.

  
  


He should be angry. This is the temptation he fights against so hard, the sin he knows is tarnishing his soul every time he indulges in it, yet here his brother and his groundskeeper stand entwined and Michael cannot see it as a sin. He does not care that Dean is in his employ, does not think for a second that Dean seduced or misled Castiel. Michael does not feel betrayed by this union. Does not see Castiel as sullied by it. Castiel has always been pure and so this love must be pure too. 

 

Michael carefully reconfigures his understanding of the world to include the sight he sees before him. The revelation is not earth shattering, he simply decides that the impurity he feels when he covets such closeness for himself must come from his tarnished soul, not from the kind of love he wants. 

 

Michael turns away from the sight, afraid that his taint will somehow ruin this for the lovers, and heads back towards the house quickly.

 

It never crosses his mind that while he watched, someone might have been watching him too.

 

 

**

 

The knocking on the window wakes him in the middle of the night.

 

For a moment, Michael lies there, imagines that he is dreaming, but then the knocking comes again, more insistent. He throws back the bedcovers and heads to the window. 

 

Michael flings back the curtains. Adam is there, crouching on the stone ledge, wet through from the rain and shivering. 

 

Michael hastily unlatches the window and helps the young man inside, completely at a loss as to why he would be there or how he even got up to the second floor ledge in the first place. 

 

“I climbed up,” Adam says, “There is a trellis at the side of the house and it isn’t so hard if you climb quickly.” 

 

“Why?” Michael asks. He can think of no reason why Adam should be scaling the walls to sit outside on his window ledge like some strange and otherworldly imp. 

 

In reply, Adam kisses him. It is soft, stunningly so, and steals Michael’s breath away.

 

“Because I know,” Adam whispers. “I know you’re like me. I saw you today, I saw how you looked at them, how you often looked at me, and I knew.” 

 

Michael’s mind is reeling. He wants to push Adam away, to tell him that no good can come of this, to tell him of the guilt that blackens Michael’s soul which he cannot shake, while Adam is so golden and full of light. 

 

Adam should know that whatever he is proposing is hopeless. 

 

Then Adam kisses him again and Michael gives in without a fight, succumbing to what he has wanted since the first day he saw Adam in the garden. 

 

He peels off Adam’s wet clothes, leaving them in an unceremonious heap on the floor, much more interested in the naked flesh hidden beneath them. Adam is as beautiful as Michael imagined he would be. His legs and arms are long and slender, his chest speckled with soft, downy-coloured hairs that dip lower, across his stomach, to a little nest of downy curls from which juts his half-hard cock. It is a beautiful thing, small which is how Michael has always prefered his men to be, not too big for Michael to swallow him down easily or wrap his hand fully around its length. Adam could have been carved from marble, but he is better than any statute could be; living, breathing and desiring. 

 

Adam is chilled, shivering by the time Michael has undressed and admired him, but Michael’s bed is warm and he settles beside Adam, covering his skin with kisses, warming his body up with each caress. 

 

It is enough for Michael just to be able to touch Adam. He can imagine how tight Adam would be around his cock, he desires it keenly, but who is to say Adam would allow him that pleasure? Not every man wants to be buggered, although Michael indulges himself imagining that Adam would. Regardless, he doesn’t have the time or the things necessary for that now.

 

Instead he slots their bodies together, shoving his pajamas down around his hips so his own hard cock can be free. Then he wraps his hand around his cock and Adam’s, bringing them together as he strokes. Adam moans softly, clinging to him. He is so beautiful like this, naked and flushed, his nipples hard and pink, his cock a duskier shade. Michael doesn’t want to look away. He wants to drink in the sight of Adam like this and remember it for the rest of his life. He may never get another chance like this again. 

 

He has no idea what made Adam so brave. Michael would never have had the courage to climb up the side of a house and offer himself to another man. Michael has only ever taken his pleasure from rent boys, ones who were willing and approached him first, who made it clear that Michael would get what he paid for. 

 

This kind of attraction, passionate and organic, is outside of his usual understanding and it shocks him even as it delights him. Adam isn’t careful. There are so many reasons this should frighten Michael, but it is hard to be frightened of what repercussions might come when Adam is pliant and pretty below him, panting for more of Michael’s touches. 

 

Michael has no intention of letting this end too quickly and keeps his movements sure and steady, even as Adam begs. Adam may be used to frantic, hurried fumbles where the outcome is more important than the journey, but Michael wants to enjoy every moment.

 

“So cruel,” Adam pouts when Michael shakes his head. “Why are you so cruel?”

 

“I want to enjoy you,” Michael tells him.

 

“I have a mouth, you could enjoy that,” Adam suggests, squirming against him enticingly, pressing kisses with that self-same mouth to Michael’s neck and across to his exposed collarbone. “Or turn me over and make use of me. Just don’t do this. It’s torture.”

 

The images that Adam’s offer presents are enough to make Michael still his hand for a moment, lest all be over too quickly, but then he continues, pace unchanged, and makes Adam groan in frustration.

 

“I’d hurt you,” Michael says softly, pressing his hips forward firmly to remind Adam that of the two of them his girth is the bigger.

 

“I’ve taken men before. I know how it works. I can withstand it,” Adam says, almost sounding proud that he’s been with men who didn’t know how to make it pleasurable, not merely something to be withstood.

 

Michael shakes his head again, pressing a kiss to Adam’s pink and pouting mouth.

 

“When I bugger you,” he says, his words low and deliberate, and he feels Adam shiver against him. “You’ll realize those other men had no idea what they were doing. You’ll enjoy every moment of it.”

 

“Please,” Adam moans, arching against him. 

 

That soft, sweet sound tests Michael’s resolve. He tightens his grip on their cocks and speeds his strokes. He cannot give Adam everything he wants this evening, but he can give him relief. 

 

Adam’s breath hitches and his eyes slide closed. He grips Michael tightly, his nails digging into Michael’s arm as he comes. Michael cannot look away from him or the slight of his cock jerking as he spills. Michael can feel his own release building so he keeps stroking even as Adam is shaking, overwhelmed by the sensation of it. 

 

When Michael comes he spills himself across Adam.The second the glow of his orgasm fades Michael feels petty for the possessive gesture, how primal it felt, but Adam just smiles up at him sleepily and trails his fingers through the smears across his belly, rubbing their seed together until Michael can no longer tell what came from who. 

 

Michael collapses back in the bed, wondering what should happen now. Is he supposed to send Adam away? This is the point where he usually pays and leaves, or the young man who has entertained him leaves instead. Michael has no protocol for engagements of this sort. 

 

He feels the bed shift beside him and for a moment, he is certain that Adam is going, but instead the youth moves closer, draping himself across Michael as he settles down to sleep.

 

“Next time, you have to keep your promise and bugger me,” he says, laying his head against Michael’s chest.

 

“Of course,” Michael agrees, even as he doubts there will be a next time. 

 

He presses a kiss to the golden curls atop Adam’s head, setting his hand on Adam’s back, lulled to sleep by the reassuring rise and fall of Adam’s breathing. 

 

**

 

Michael’s fears do not allow him to sleep for long. He wakes early, conscious that soon the rest of the household will be awake. His door is not locked. The maid will come with tea, his early morning ritual, and find him here in bed with Adam sleeping soundly against him, completely naked and streaked with the traces of their adventure. 

 

Even if the maid does not catch them, Adam still has to make his way out of the house and whichever method he choses could arouse suspicion. He does not work inside, so his presence would undoubtedly be noticed if he left by the servants entrance downstairs, and if he climbs back down trellis that too might be noticed.

 

Dean has almost certainly marked the fact that his brother was not home the night before. He will want to know where Adam went and what Adam was doing. (It does not occur to Michael until much later to ponder who taught Adam that he could climb up to the gentlemen’s bedrooms via the trellis, or to suspect that Dean might not have been at home himself the night before, but instead warm in the contentment of Castiel’s embrace.) 

 

Michael lays there, fretting, unable to make a decision, until Adam awakens. 

 

Eyes open, Adam smiles at Michael as if he has nothing to fear from the bright light of day. Then, with the boundless energy of youth, he sits up, swings his leg over Michael and straddles him, naked and completely unashamed, despite the unlocked bedroom door. 

 

“Are you going to make good on your promise now?” he asks, a wicked glint in his eyes as he grinds against Michael. 

 

Despite himself, Michael’s body responds to the invitation. 

 

“Wicked boy,” Michael says, shaking his head and grabbing hold of Adam’s wrists. 

 

He flips them with ease, so Adam is pinned beneath him. It would be such a wonderful start to the day, ravishing Adam as the youth so clearly wants. But Michael cannot put aside his duties easily, and he still does not have the supplies to take Adam pleasurably; even if time and discretion were not a factor. He drops a kiss to Adam’s lips then pulls away reluctantly. “You have to go. You know you can’t be found here.” 

 

If Adam is upset, he doesn’t show it. He slips from the bed, grabs his clothes and dresses quickly.

 

“But you still have to keep your promise,” he says once he is done, turning to face Michael. “I will come back for that.”

 

Michael wonders what he has set in motion by opening the window and letting Adam in. He has made himself vulnerable. Adam could extract anything from him - money, a better position in the household, but all Adam seems to want is the chance to do this again. Michael’s cock responds to Adam’s earnest desire to experience more pleasures of the flesh. At the thought of being buried inside Adam’s tightness. 

 

“Yes,” Michael quickly agrees, spurred on both by his lust and by the desire to not be caught with Adam in his room.

 

Adam comes to the bedside and kisses him. Michael’s traitorous cock responds by leaking, hungry for more. Then Adam disappears out of the window, and Michael lies back in bed, his breathing harsh, cursing himself and his desire. Wondering; what he has done?

 

He has only just managed to compose himself when the maid appears with his tea. 

 

**

 

Knowing that he can have Adam freely makes Michael feel uneasy. Dalliances have always come with a catch before and money has been at the heart of them. No one has offered themselves to Michael simply because they desired him. Sometimes, Michael is not convinced they even enjoy the type of intimacy they offered. Men can make money by going with other men, no matter how much they dislike it. 

 

He thinks about Adam, about how willing he seemed, and finds it hard to imagine that Adam could have faked that desire, but that does not mean Adam will not later want to gain something of value.  How much will it cost Michael to bugger him? A week's wages? A month's? Michael craves that closeness that Adam promised him, but he is so wary of the cost. Even without the clarity of a monied transaction there are other dangers to consider; gossip, discovery, imprisonment and public humiliation. 

 

Michael has not risked so much before and his mind focuses on the worst possible outcomes. This is not far away London where everything and everyone can be anonymous. He remembers every story that he has ever read in the paper of every man who has been charged for the crime of loving another man. He remembers their sentences - three years imprisonment, hard labour, condemnation.

 

Once discovered, a man is never allowed to re-enter society. Michael would have to go abroad, would have to leave behind his family and everything he has ever known. At least he has the money to do that, to disappear somewhere warm where his past could be forgotten. Adam has no such luck to fall back on. He would be marked forever. 

 

Michael thinks only of the worst and he blames himself for the future that is not yet written, one in which he has damned both Adam and himself. Michael will not allow himself to imagine that he and Adam could be happy. 

  
  


**

 

Michael finds the note on his pillow some three days after his tryst with Adam. The paper is dirty, smudged and out of place in Michael's ordered and neat room. He sits down on the bed, feeling something like dread coil in the pit of his stomach at what the contents might be. This, he thinks, could be the beginning of it, a demand for money that Michael has been waiting for since that night. 

 

He waits as long as he can stand before he opens the note. 

 

_ Sir,  _ the note begins in large, careful lettering. _I_ _ do not know what I have done. You seemed happy when we parted. You spoke of wanting more. I still want to give you more. Please come to the cottage. I will make sure that Dean is out. I want to see you again. Please come.  _

 

_ Adam. _

 

Michael reads and re-reads the note. He is angry with Adam for being so foolish, for writing something that could so easily be discovered by any of the household. Adam's words are simple, heartfelt and that is all the more dangerous. Anyone reading this would know what the relationship between Michael and Adam was. 

 

Michael does not go to the cottage. He burns the letter and instructs the servants to keep the windows to his room locked tight at all times. Adam is too impulsive, too rash, he does not want the increased risk of exposure presented by more surprises left by Adam. Michael should have thought more carefully, should have considered everything he risked for a moment's tumble with Adam, but he had wanted the boy so much. He still wants Adam, but now he has been hit by a cold dose of reality. 

 

Over the next few days Michael awakens in the middle of the night to hear a knocking on his bedroom window, but he does not get up. He lies in bed, as still as a stone, and wills Adam to understand.

 

Eventually, the knocking stops. 

 

**

 

Afternoon tea is a lavish affair. There are cakes, bread and honey, delicate little sandwiches with potted shrimp spread, and, of course, a pot of warm comforting tea. 

 

Anna pours out the cups, setting one in front of each of her brothers. Gabriel has already filled his plate with cakes. He ignores the sandwiches in favour of the sweeter treats on the table. Castiel has bread and honey.

 

Michael takes nothing. He is not hungry. He should eat, he knows, but he cannot force himself to. He has been in a decline ever since that night with Adam more than a fortnight ago. He has ignored the boy, shunned him, but it has done nothing to assuage his guilt. He has sunk further and further into depression. No cake or treat in the world, not matter how well prepared, is enough to rouse him. Nothing is.

 

His family talk around him and Michael lets their conversation wash over him. Their voices do not annoy him, but neither do they please him. They are background noise, unimportant when compared to the thoughts in Michael’s head. 

 

Castiel takes another piece of bread, dipping his spoon into the honey pot and helping himself to a liberal amount. 

 

“Mr Winchester says that he might need to look for another apprentice soon,” he says, slipping the words so artfully into the conversation that for a moment Michael doesn’t even register who Castiel is discussing. 

 

“Why?” Gabriel asks, his mouth full. “Isn’t his brother helping him?”

 

“Mr Winchester believes his brother will go back to London soon. The country does not seem to have agreed with him,” Castiel says carefully.

 

He is looking at Michael.

 

Michael feels uncomfortably hot under his gaze. Castiel knows everything. He must. Adam has told Dean, and Dean has told Castiel and now Castiel is here, in their parlor, eating bread and honey, and discussing the whole sordid affair as if it is normal. 

 

True, nothing Castiel has said even alluded to a relationship as the cause of Adam’s unhappiness, but Castiel is still too near to the truth of it to be guessing. 

 

Castiel does not deflect his stare. 

 

Adam is unhappy, Adam is leaving, and Michael is the cause of it. Michael has sinned against Adam, cast him out with no explanation, and all Michael can think is that Castiel knows. He knows and is looking at Michael like he is searching for signs of regret, beseeching Michael silently to repent. 

 

Gabriel snorts. “Had his heartbroken, more like. He was happy enough until a few weeks ago. I wonder which of the staff it was?”

 

“Gabriel, don’t gossip,” Anna chides him. “You can’t possibly know that.”

 

“I would think Gabriel was right,” Castiel says softly. “I would wager it was a broken heart that made London look so appealing.”

 

Castiel continues to look at Michael and Michael marvels at his composure. Envies it. Castiel can discuss Dean as if there is no deep affection between them. Castiel can sit calmly in judgement over Michael, surrounded by Gabriel and Anna, and yet ensure their siblings’s ignorance. He is discreet but not unfeeling.

 

Michael has always feared that passion meant exposure, that the moment he was given the chance to speak about Adam he would open his mouth and let all of his feelings spill out, but with Castiel’s example his fear seems so foolish and disproportionate. 

 

Michael stands up abruptly, shocking Gabriel and Anna, who seem to have all but forgotten that Michael is present.

 

“I have something that must be attended to,” he says briskly. “I’m afraid it cannot wait.”

 

Gabriel scowls at him. “But we’re having tea. Why must you go now?”

 

Castiel shakes his head. 

 

“I know something of this matter,” he says, addressing Gabriel, “And I would wager that waiting would be unwise.”

 

Michael flees the parlour, leaving behind the bickering voices of his siblings as Gabriel demands to know what is happening. He feels lighter, freed from the old guilt that has haunted him since he first realized who he truly was and where his desires lay. If he does not find Adam, however, if he does not tell him what he feels and stop him from making the mistake of returning to London, then Michael will have a new guilt to bear, this one will be wholly deserved. 

  
  


**

 

Michael traces the path to the greenhouse, his heart relentlessly calling for Adam as it has ever since Michael laid eyes on him. 

 

Michael has ignored it for too long; become a coward. Despite the very real dangers they could face he should not have treated Adam so callously, so harshly rejected the good fortune that was offered to him with Adam’s coming. 

 

Michael had been graced with the presence of someone who could love him, and he had foolishly ignored that blessing. Michael should have welcomed him into his bed with open arms and the assurances of safety, not cast him aside. 

 

The greenhouse looms in front of him. 

 

Michael slows down, his breathing heavy, as he sees the silhouette of a man inside. At a glance, he believes it to be Dean working away industriously, but as he nears, he realizes that it is Adam. 

 

For a moment his feet fail him and he stops, staring at Adam. It is almost impossible to force himself to keep going, but Michael reminds himself that if he walks away, then he will certainly lose Adam. 

 

He reaches the greenhouse and steps inside. It is warm, filled with the delicate flowers and vegetables that Dean cultivates in the safety of the hot house. 

 

“Adam,” he says, alerting the young man to his presence, not wanting to shock him.

 

Adam straightens up. His body is taut, he holds his head up defiantly, but he doesn’t look at Michael. 

 

“What do you want?” he asks, voice cold and dismissive.

 

Michael steps forward hesitantly. “I have behaved badly, Adam. I realise that now, but you cannot return to London.”

 

Adam laughs.

 

“Are you forbidding me? I don’t care if I don’t get a reference from you. I can find work, they always need boys in the factories, and there are men who’d tip generously for my other efforts. Besides, what kind of reference could you write me? One that would get us both arrested?” 

 

Michael knows that Adam is hurt, that he intends his words to be barbs, but he cannot deny the sting of them. He hates the thought of Adam lying with other men.

 

“What if someone finds out about you? What if you’re arrested?”

 

“What do you care?” Adam asks, finally facing Michael, his eyes blazing with anger. “I won’t name you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know your position and your family name are all that you care about.”

 

“I’m worried about you!” Michael cries. 

 

He honestly is worried about Adam. About the increased risk of discovery and prosecution in London, the careless way  Adam talks of finding other men, his indiscretion, the way he treats himself - as if he is unimportant - it all worries Michael so much. He wants to protect Adam, to love and care for him in the safety of the estate. 

 

He steps closer to Adam, moving so there are only inches between them, and gently reaches out to take Adam’s hand in his own.

 

“I have been a cad, Adam, I know I have, but you are very important to me, more so than I had realised, and the thought of anything happening to you if you return to London terrifies me.” 

 

Adam watches him carefully, his eyes narrowed as if he is looking for the lies in Michael’s words, but he does not pull his hand away.

 

“I don’t know what to think,” he says quietly. 

 

Michael nods. His behaviour can not have made sense to Adam - one moment so eager for the boy’s attentions, then abandoning him once they had been to bed. And now claiming concern as if from nowhere.

 

“I have been a fool, Adam,” he admits. “I do understand that now. Please, don’t leave me. I want you to stay here with me, to be safe. I want you to share my bed and be mine. I want to be the only man who loves you.” 

 

He searches Adam’s face, hoping to see some hint that Adam might be willing to stay for him, but there is nothing. Deflated, heartbroken, Michael soldiers on. Doing the right thing by Adam must now be his priority, even if his affections are not returned. “I know that I may have missed my chance, that you have every right to refuse me, but please do not return to London. You can stay here even if you never wish to see my face again. I will stay out of your way, I will not trouble you. I just want you to be safe.” 

 

Adam draws in a deep breath. His fingers in Michael’s grip tremble.

 

“You can’t abandon me again,” he says, his eyes darting fearfully to look up at Michael before dropping away.  “I can’t face that again.”

 

“I know,” Michael says. He may be given a second chance, but he knows that there will be no third. If he gives into his fears again then he does not deserve Adam and the love that could bloom for them. 

 

“I will do everything in my power to make you happy, Adam,” he promises.

 

Adam nods. A small smile graces his lips. He grips Michael’s hand tightly, leans up, and whispers in Michael’s ear “And you have to keep your promise to bugger me.” 

 

Michael laughs. The sound of it is so strange to his own ears, but in that moment he knows that with Adam in his life it is a sound he’ll become familiar with. His soul can become happy and carefree; loved by this man, he will be luminous. 


End file.
